


Hold my hand

by Windfighter



Category: Marvel, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Tony, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, no one dies today though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windfighter/pseuds/Windfighter
Summary: Tony leaves some omnious messages in the Avengers groupchat before disappearing. After that he wakes up to a nightmare.(summaries are hard and I will never learn how to do them)





	Hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

> Based on some real events that I haven't... really had an opportunity to work through. So Tony has to suffer for it. Sorry Tony.

**Avengers Groupchat**

> **Tony Stark:** Hey
> 
> **Tony Stark:** Anyone there?
> 
> **Tony Stark:** It doesn't matter I just
> 
> **Tony Stark:** I wanted to say... I...
> 
> **Tony Stark:** I love you. I loved working with you and spending time with you and talking with you and...
> 
> **Tony Stark:** And I'm sorry.

 

* * *

 

 

There was something in his throat, something being pulled out. It hurt and Tony squirmed, rolled to the side to get away, to stop it from pulling. Strong hands pressed against his shoulders, voices shouted over his head. He was pressed to his back again. They kept talking but he couldn't make out the words, couldn't hear them over the sounds of his brain rattling around at the speed of light. He didn't move, didn't struggle. Part of him knew what was going on, part of him just accepted what was happening.

His throat was freed. The hands left his shoulders. Voices still danced around him. He could almost make them out. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want confirmation. No one was talking to him. He lifted his hand, knew there was someone next to the bed he was lying in and he couldn't remember getting to the bed, but he grabbed them.

”Peter”, his voice was hoarse, harsh, and the words sent fresh pain through his body. ”Is Peter okay? Does he know?”

There was words flying over him and then someone was pulling a tube out of his throat again. He vaguely remembered going through this just seconds ago and he squirmed to the right, but hands pressed him to his back again, words danced over him and he wanted to open his eyes but they were so heavy and he didn't want to open them, didn't want to see what was going on, didn't want to confirm it. The hands held him against the bed, pressed him firmly to his back and he stopped struggling. He moved his fingers, expecting someone to grab his hand but no one did and it was all he wanted, he could take this if there was just someone holding his hands but no one did. The voices kept talking at him, but all he could hear was the emptiness in his hand and the wetness that was starting to gather in his eyes and the beeping of machines around him.

The tube was pulled out. He was breathing. The voices was getting clearer. Something was pulled through his nose as well and he was certain there was something running from his nostril. Blood maybe. He wanted to lift a hand and wipe it off but his muscles were unresponsive and someone else wiped it away. He kept his eyes closed, listened to the sounds around him. Hospital. He wanted to groan, wanted to cry. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He could hear them talking about him, an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose and he focused on taking deep breaths, not wanting to let them know he was listening, that he was awake. They probably knew anyway, he was certain. He moved his fingers again.

_Please, someone... just... please..._

His hand remained empty. He was alone. Of course he was alone.

_I can take it, just someone please hold my hand._

He didn't care if it was a nurse, if it was Pepper, or Rhodey or Steve or the janitor. At this point he'd even settle for someone from the Ten Rings. He just needed someone. But there wasn't anyone.

”Hey”, he could finally make the words out. ”You're in the hospital.”

He forced his eyes open, wanted to glare at them but couldn't.

”How do you feel?”

He had to think, had to struggle to access his feelings. He wanted to say great, just peachy, but he was stripped bare, his defenses broken and he couldn't get the words over his lips.

”Disappointed”, he rasped out.

It was the wrong answer, he could tell by the way her eyebrows pulled closer, by the concerned face she pulled. He closed his eyes again, listened to the beeping. Heart monitor. He knew all about them by now.

”I'm just gonna take your temperature.”

He nodded. Something cold was pressed into his ear for a few second, then it beeped.

”38.5. I'll check it again later, okay?”

He could only nod again. Talking was painful. He coughed. Mucus gathered in his mouth and the nurse gave him a plastic bag to spit it out in. He swallowed it instead, already felt grossed out by the situation and didn't want to add to it by failing to spit, by having it slide down his chin instead. He let his eyes glance over the room, stop at the window. He could see a tree, some flowers, a fence. He glanced at the clock, but looked back outside again immediately. The sun was shining. His eyes got wet again. Why couldn't it be raining? Memories of the dream just before he was brutally awaken danced across his memory and he turned to look at the nurse again.

”Peter”, he rasped out. It was painful. ”Is Peter okay? Does he know?”

The nurse left the computer she had been looking at and went up to him again. She didn't touch him and he just wanted someone to do, just wanted someone to hold his hand, pat his shoulder or pull their fingers through his hair, anything to let him know he wasn't abandoned, alone.

”I don't know”, she answered and Tony wasn't sure if she looked sad at being unable to comfort him with his answer or if he imagined it because he just wanted someone to care. She looked at the machines, looked at him and talked again. ”A doctor will be coming soon and after that we'll get you some food.”

He wasn't hungry but he nodded and turned his gaze out the window instead. She went to his other side, fiddled with some of the equipment and he watched her as she was working but didn't pay any attention to it. It was nice _seeing_ someone there, even if they weren't comforting him, holding his hand and only did their work.

It was less nice when she pulled two of the needles out of his arm. He winced at the pain, but her grip as she tried to stop the bleeding was worse. He'd get a bruise, he was certain. She looked at the watch, then removed the wad of paper she was pressing against his wrist, just below his thumb. It was still bleeding and she pressed it even harder. Tony winced again, wanted to pull away, but was smart enough to not struggle. There wasn't any use. It stopped after another agonizingly slow two minutes and she put a bandaid over it, went back to the computer. Tony stared at the watch again, let his eyes trace over the walls. He coughed, swallowed more of the mucus. It was painful. He wanted something to drink but there wasn't anything. He tried making himself comfortable in the bed but his body was sluggish and didn't move as he wanted to.

”Hello.”

Tony looked up, looked at the doctor staring down at him. He wanted to disappear.

”Do you know where you are?”

Tony wanted to roll his eyes, but nodded. The doctor seemed to want more than a nod.

”Hospital”, he grunted out, voice still weak and raspy.

”Do you know which hospital?”

He just stared at the man. There were so many hospitals he could have been taken to. The doctor hmmed and Tony was certain he concluded Tony was confused and his brain hadn't caught up.

”Do you know what day it is?”

It was midday and it had been afternoon last time he was aware of his surroundings but that didn't help because he had no idea how long he had been sleeping or if they had kept him down for days. The way his throat ached it could have been weeks (although it probably wasn't). Tony shook his head and the doctor hmmed again.

”It's Saturday”, the doctor told him.

18 hours. He had been down for only 18 hours. He nodded, didn't have anything to say to that.

”How are you feeling?”

It was just as well to keep being honest because these people had already seen him at his worst so he repeated 'disappointed' and the doctor looked concerned or unsatisfied. Tony wasn't sure. It was definately the wrong answer but he wasn't supposed to be here, he was supposed to be gone, he hadn't wanted to wake up again. He'd have to do better next time. The doctor removed the oxygen mask from his face. He wasn't tired any longer. His body was still heavy but he wasn't tired.

”Are we allowed to say that you're here if anyone's asking?”

”It doesn't matter.” Wrong answer. ”Yeah, sure.”

He turned towards the window. The doctors reflection was nodding and he left the room. It wasn't like anyone would call anyway, Tony was certain. Food came in. They'd probably say something if he didn't eat it so he poked at it with the fork, tried to eat it while staying in his half-lying position but it didn't work, his hands were shaking and he felt stupid. When you eat you sit up straight, it's as simple as that. He tried pushing himself up, moved his legs. It went slowly, his limbs not cooperating, still heavy, but he needed to sit, needed to... to prove he was okay? Still functional? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't not do it.

He managed. He was breathing heavy, coughing again, but he was sitting up. His hands were still shaking, only a little, but at least if he dropped the food now it would fall onto the plate instead of him and he ate, forced himself to eat, and the food was rich in flavor, somehow easing the loneliness he was feeling and he focused on it. He was still disappointed, still wished he hadn't woken up, but he felt a little better. And there was _icecream_. Tony abandoned the food and focused on the icecream instead. It was soothing, finally something calming his raw throat. There was water as well and he drank it greedily.

”We don't have any psychiatrist onhand today, so a taxi will come and take you to another hospital soon”, the nurse said as he fell back against the bed.

He nodded, turned to look out the window again. Part of him wanted to protest, to just tell them to take him home. They couldn't do that and he knew it. He wanted to sigh, but couldn't. He looked at the walls again. There seemed to be a pattern on it, but no matter how much he tried to see it he couldn't. His head was starting to ache, but he couldn't turn his gaze away. The walls were a boring very light yellow, but the pattern he could but couldn't see drove him crazy. He lifted his hand, covered one of his eyes to see if that helped. He rubbed his eyes, closed them and looked again. The pattern was still there, dancing across the wall but impossible to actually lock eyes to. He groaned.

”Is there a pattern on the wall or is my eye-sight fucked?”

The nurse looked at him, looked at the wall and then shrugged and that didn't really tell him anything. Maybe it was the drugs still in his system, or the fever. He decided not to ask again, just tried to let his eyes trace over it. Another nurse entered, stopped by the end of his bed.

”Hello”, she said.

”Hey”, Tony answered, watching her. He would scream if she asked how he was doing because he was still _disappointed_ and he already knew it was the wrong answer but he didn't have any other. She smiled.

”I was here when you came in yesterday, but you probably don't remember that.”

Tony almost laughed.

”Was a bit out of it”, he said.

”Yeah”, she laughed and Tony felt a little lighter but then she had to go and ruin it. ”I was the one who put the catheter in you.”

He had done his best to ignore the tube inside his dick but now that she had mentioned it he became all to aware of it and it felt way too big to be in there and he was sure his cheeks turned red because they felt like they were burning and he wanted to hide, wanted to squirm and move away. He didn't move, forced a smile.

”I'm going to take it out now.”

He wasn't quite ready. She started pulling and he felt like he was peeing himself. He squirmed, pressed his legs together, automatically clenched his muscles to hold the pee inside and she frowned.

”I need you to relax.”

His hands clenched the blanket draped over him. It was a struggle, he had to constantly remind himself not to clench and the agonising seconds it took for her to get it out stretched throughout an eternity for him. The other nurse gave him his clothes, removed the bars from the side of the bed so he could swing his legs over the edge and get down from it. His legs trembled and it took him four tries before he managed to stand up, and he still had to hold on to the bed to steady himself. He put the clothes on, sank down on the bed again. Coughed. He wanted to lie back down, but he couldn't allow himself to do that.

”Do you need to use the bathroom?”

He wasn't sure he'd be able to walk all the way to the bathroom, but there was a pressure inside him and he nodded. He almost laughed because if the others could hear him now, all quiet when he usually never shut up. He didn't laugh. Instead he pushed himself off the bed again, followed the nurse to the toilet. She stayed outside, and he peed, washed his hands and stared at his image in the mirror. It looked so normal, like he always looked. His hair a bit disheveled, but the hollowness, tiredness, heavyness and sadness he felt was invisible. He didn't look like a man who had tried to kill himself only 20 hours ago. He rubbed his eyes, closed them and leaned against the sink. He should be dead, he wasn't supposed to be here, to be awake. Everyone would hate him for this, for being so weak, for still being alive. He pushed himself away from the sink. The nurse waited outside the door, followed him back to the room and he sat down on the bed again, rested his eyes at the window and the sunshine outside. He wanted to go out there, but he also wanted to just lock himself in a room and try again. A person peeked through the door, looking at him and he turned away from the window,

”There's a phonecall for you.”

”Who is it?”

His voice still didn't work, was still painful to use.

”Steve, says he's a friend of yours.”

Tony didn't move, groaned inwards. Steve was going to yell at him. Of course. Best to just get it over with. He held out his hand, didn't like being handed stuff but at this point it didn't matter, he didn't have the energy to care. He still held his breath when the phone was placed in his hand.

”Hey.”

”Hey. How... how are you?”

Tony wanted to ask how Steve knew where he was, how he had known where to call, but he couldn't.

”I'm fine”, he tried not to cough. Steve was silent for a while, probably considering if he was going to call Tony's obvious lie out.

”Your voice...”

”Had a tub down my throat”, he winced at the hoarseness he couldn't get rid of, ”it'll sound like normal soon.”

”Do you... want us to come?”

”It's okay.” _You weren't here when I needed you to be anyway._

”Tony, it's not...” Steve let out a sigh and Tony looked at his feet. ”Do you _want_ us to come?”

”If you... only if you don't have anything else to do.”

He wanted to ask about Peter, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He could already see Steve's disapproving gaze infront of his eyes.

”No, Tony...” Steve sighed again. ”What do _you_ want? That's the only thing that matters right now.”

_I want someone to have been there when I woke up, I want someone to have hold my hand when they pulled the tube out of me, I want someone to have brushed through my hair as I was gathering my bearings and slowly realizing I failed. But you can't give me that._

”I want...” He took a shaky breath. _I want to die._ ”I need... Can you take care of Peter?”

Silence. Tony coughed again.

”I'm going to a different hospital soon”, Tony said, his voice more stable than he thought he would have managed. ”Gonna talk to someone. Not... not sure what'll happen after that.”

”Please listen to the doctors this time.”

Tony made a vague noise of possible agreement. He couldn't promise anything, but he wasn't going to argue against anyone right now. There was no use.

”Call me when you know more? We'll drop by if they want to keep you. Okay?”

Tony made another vague noise of possible agreement.

”And otherwise we'll come pick you up, and then we can go for cheeseburgers, okay?”

Tony was on the verge of crying. Steve made it sound like everything was okay and it was so far from okay it could be and Tony wanted nothing more than to _tell him_ , wanted to tell him nothing would ever be okay again because he had _failed_ and he was _disappointed_ and he would _regret_ his failure every day for the rest of his hopefully short life because once he was out he would succeed, but he couldn't say that so he nodded.

”Okay.”

”I'll talk to you later then.”

”...okay.”

”Bye Tony. Don't forget to call.”

”Mm...”

Steve ended the call. Tony let his hand drop, land in his lap. He stared at the phone, felt drained and he couldn't move. The nurse took it from him, talked to him, but he could only made vague noises back at her. She left him alone, and he stared at his hands, waited. Only had to wait another fifteen minutes, then the cab was there. The nurse handed him his phone and his keys and he had no idea how they had gotten them, how they had found either of those but he wasn't going to ask. It didn't matter. Jarvis might have told them. His stomach twisted. He got up, the nurse followed him outside. The ground was cold against his bare feet and he missed his shoes, but didn't let it show. He sank down in the passenger seat, leaned against the window.

_She forgot to check my temperature again_ , he thought as the hospital disappeared from his view, leaving his short stay there as only a memory. His fingers twitched and he looked at his hand. There still wasn't anyone there to hold it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So incase anyone decides to worry (not that I think anyone will): This happened a couple years back. Still disappointed but I'm in a better place mentally now. So no need for worries!
> 
> Don't really have any plans to continue with this story but I guess if people want to I could? No promises though, I already have like 50 WIPs I need to finish x,x


End file.
